Fate Does NOT Exist
by caelumdeity
Summary: "You're attractive, I'm attractive, let's get together and make attractive babies." And Hamlet could just tell Horatio was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. "That was absolutely horrid. Did you read that somewhere?" ModernAU slash
1. 1

_A/N: This little bit of stupidity/silliness was brought to you by my desire to not do homework and my need for some fluff. (It also may or may not have to do with the insane amount of times I've recently been to my local Starbucks to work on various projects because it's suddenly become the ideal meeting place even though there's never any place to sit inside.)  
>Uh, this is clearly AU, set in modern times. I have so many different universes in my mind that sometimes I'm not even sure if they're the same, but here's one such universe. This is sort of pre-slash, I would suppose, because I'm in love with HamletxHoratio (or HoratioxHamlet, if you want to be specific). Writing them together is so fun, but my limited intelligence and wit does not do the pair justice. Whatever their relationship is, it makes me so very happy. Enjoy, and don't hurt me, please.<br>-caelumdeity_

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><p><strong>Fate Does NOT Exist<strong>

Hamlet's not sure what it is, but he thinks he's just fallen in love with a man he only just met.

It was awkward, at first. Hamlet had arrived early at the coffee shop because he had to meet for a project and he enjoyed being able to gripe about everyone else's tardiness. The young man was just about to enter, had noticed Hamlet, and had held the door open for him. Nothing too weird, the guy was courteous. Hamlet could respect that. Hamlet even thanked him – anyone who knew him might have fainted in shock. But, whatever.

Hamlet had taken a second to wonder if he was actually going to purchase something or loiter there until the rest of his group showed up, so the young man had gotten in line before him. That let Hamlet openly observe him without feeling too creepy about it.

Hamlet judged that the man was probably a few years older than him, attending the university nearby. (Hamlet himself was still trying to survive his junior year of high school and hated every second of it.) His hair was a nice, golden blond – always attractive in Hamlet's view – and neatly cut with a part over his right eye. The man wore glasses (fashionable ones, if he remembered correctly), but he hadn't quite caught the color of his eyes. He didn't pay much attention to the rest of his clothes; he just remembers there was blue (possibly plaid), and overall it was very dark. He wore his clothes neatly, but with a relaxed air. He does remember that he had been wearing a pair of Converse, because after his hair that's what Hamlet had stared at the most since he distinctly remembers that one of his shoelaces was loose and he never did anything about it – something that irked Hamlet to no end. When the man ordered, Hamlet noticed he had a nice, calm voice and a polite manner of speaking. It wasn't overly formal, but he had a feeling that the man unintentionally led on many of the female species.

Then, Hamlet had to repeat his order about five times before the cashier got it right. He's been told countless times that his order is just too specific and too strange that it's difficult to remember, but he thinks that they're all crazy.

"I've been told I have a certain charismatic appeal, but am I really that amazing?"

Hamlet blinked a couple of times before he noticed that he had gone back to staring at the man. He had pretty gray-green eyes. And a nice smile. Hamlet smiled in return. "I think it's just that everyone else I interact with is extraordinarily bland."

His smile widened. "How harsh."

Their conversation was interrupted by their reception of their orders, but it just as soon continued once they found somewhere to sit.

Hamlet tried to look as innocent as he could. "I tell nothing but the truth, my good sir."

"I'll try not to be offended by that."

"That's good. Offense wasn't my intention – at least this time around. But for future references, I'd like to have a name for that which I am offending."

"Horatio," the man said simply.

"Mysterious," Hamlet teased.

Horatio smirked. "Well I'm hardly going to let you slander my entire name, now will I?" He nodded towards him. "Is there a name to which all that audacity belongs?"

"Now I rather feel like a stereotypical low-budget actor."

"What? Overly arrogant?"

"No. Well, perhaps, although no one ever admits to that. I do feel unjustly offended that you don't know who I am."

Horatio laughed, and Hamlet felt accomplished for amusing him so, but he wasn't quite sure why. "You're quite an opinionated person, aren't you?"

Hamlet shrugged. "Oh, you know high schoolers. We know everything and if you're not popular the world hates you and you hate the world. And even if you are, the world still sucks."

"Cute."

Hamlet hadn't been (and still isn't) sure what Horatio had meant by that, so he ignored it. "So you still haven't figured out who I am?"

"I wasn't thinking about it, to be honest."

"You're no fun."

Horatio shrugged. "I figured you'd tell me eventually, or we'd just both forget about it and that I'd be haunted by your intelligent, blue eyes for the next week before camping out at the high school like a stalker just to meet you again."

"I'm sure somewhere in that incredibly disturbing sentence there was a compliment."

"I'm sure there was too, but sometimes my mouth wanders where it ought not and I have this terrible affliction where I can't remember what it said."

"I'm not complaining."

Horatio grinned, and tried to hide it by taking a drink of his hot tea. "Just where are you trying to lead this conversation?"

"You're attractive, I'm attractive, let's get together and make attractive babies."

And Hamlet could just tell Horatio was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. "That was absolutely horrid. Did you read that somewhere?"

"I'm hurt. I've spent hours and hours perfecting that line. I thought it was foolproof!"

"Seriously. I'm sure you could've come up with something better than that given a few minutes."

Hamlet grinned. "Your faith in my intelligence and good taste in spite of our short acquaintance is amazing. I'm glad to admit that the unintelligent garble I just assaulted you with was not of my own creation. I do believe that I probably heard some variation of it in a show one of my friends forced me to watch. It was certainly not in anything I've read."

"So of course you're familiar with Shakespeare."

"Quite. I've wondered about how it might relate to my life, but the possibilities are terrifying so I try not to think of it."

"So our meeting shouldn't be taken into context at all."

"You've figured it out, then?"

Horatio grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I knew your name the moment I saw you. I was just trying to see if you would bring it up first."

"Maybe we should just forget this ever happened. Then we don't have to worry that maybe quite possibly in the future a whole lot of people might die soon." His heart lurched. As soon as the suggestion was out of his mouth, even if it was just a joke, Hamlet regretted it.

Horatio blinked. "Did that just hurt a lot more than it should have?"

"Strange." Hamlet cleared his throat. "Anyways, I think that lost-looking blonde over there is looking for me. It was nice meeting you."

Horatio smiled as Hamlet stood. "Is there any chance that her name is Ophelia?"

"How much are you willing to bet?"

Horatio took a pen out of his pocket, took Hamlet's hand and wrote something on it. "If I'm right, let's meet up again."

"Sure." Hamlet said, a little late in taking his hand back. As Horatio stood, he added, "She's not my girlfriend."

"Did I say she was?"

"No, but I'm certain you assumed so."

"True. I'm a firm believer that there was a rather heartbreakingly unrequited, unconditional love in that play. It makes the ending just that much more tragic."

"Let's make sure that doesn't happen, then." Hamlet was surprised at just how serious he had been.

"We'll see." And Horatio had looked genuinely concerned, but before Hamlet could say anything, Horatio continued. "Well, I see that our fair Ophelia has finally spotted you. I'll take my leave of you, my lord."

Hamlet scoffed and rolled his eyes, but the heat still rose to his face. "That's just downright embarrassing."

Horatio just smiled and winked before leaving.

"Who was that?" Ophelia asked him.

"Oh, just someone I met."

"You two were talking a lot. What about?"

"This and that." Hamlet shrugged. "The merits of early seventeenth century English literature."

Ophelia looked shocked and pouted at the same time. It was interesting to see. "I can't believe it! You meet a cute guy and you talk about literature? I'm disappointed in you."

Hamlet held up his hand. "I still got his number, didn't I?"

"What? I don't believe it."

Hamlet grinned. "And I didn't even have to ask for it."

"That's not fair."

Now at home two hours later, hiding from his uncle and what probably would be another hour long speech as to why he succeeding as CEO of the company would please his mother greatly, Hamlet considers taking a shower and sleeping entirely too early. As he undresses, his eye is caught on the series of numbers on his palm.

And suddenly, he has much better things to do than be a total loser this particular Saturday. He tugs his shirt back on (inside out and backwards but he doesn't care), finds his cell phone and quickly dials the number.

He picks up before the first ring finishes. 'Hello?'

Hamlet grins. "Waiting for someone?"

'Not anymore.'

Hamlet feels his face heat up again and he smiles involuntarily, much to his chagrin. And he's aware that he's probably acting like Ophelia would, but he can't bring himself to give a damn because Horatio probably doesn't and that's enough reason for him. "So, do you have any plans for dinner?"


	2. 2

_A/N: Realized that in the last one, I kind of messed up my mental timeline D:. Hamlet's father isn't supposed to be dead…yet…even if it seemed that way. Maybe Claudius is just an annoying loser like that. Yes. Let's go with that.  
>And I really wish you could type out little hearts in here without them being eaten up. ): Hamlet's texts would be so much cuter and embarrassing if you could, in my opinion.<br>This one seems more serious than the other one. Hum. Maybe because it's in Horatio's point of view? Well, anyways, I hope this isn't disappointing.  
>To Polymath78: Thank you so much for your review. It made waking up and going to school much more pleasant. I really had a lot of fun writing Hamlet and Horatio and I'm so glad you enjoyed it.<br>-caelumdeity_

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><p><strong>2.<strong>

Horatio tries not to think about the implications of his meeting with Hamlet, but it seems impossible. He isn't quite sure why he never noticed it before, but he suddenly became sharply aware that his roommate's name is Marcellus, he spends a great deal of time talking with Barnardo (who sort of comes with Marcellus), and that the guy across the hall from him is Laertes. Whose younger sister's name is Ophelia and she just happens to be in the same year as Hamlet. Hamlet mentioned it once, but it started to scare both of them so they quickly changed topics and silently swore to never speak of it again.

Hamlet has also taken to getting Horatio to pick him up and take him to his dorm or elsewhere when Hamlet doesn't feel like going to his house (which is pretty much always), and today is no exception. Horatio doesn't particularly mind, except it gets harder by the day to ignore the fact that Hamlet enjoys taking a nap in his bed.

"I'm jealous, Horatio," Hamlet mutters sleepily.

Horatio tears himself from his thoughts and stares at Hamlet. "Of whom?"

Hamlet props himself up on his elbows. "Your girlfriend."

"You know I don't have a girlfriend, Hamlet." Horatio mentally sighs as he turns back to his laptop.

"Oh yes you do!" Hamlet announces accusingly. "And her name is Education!"

Horatio has never been so glad that Marcellus takes the later classes. He would never hear the end of it otherwise. "Oh, is it?"

"Yes. She takes up all of your time."

Horatio raises his eyebrows. "Does she?" They're treading dangerous waters right now. Both of them are aware of their attraction towards one another, but they've never breached the topic. It's almost the only other thing that they actually avoid talking about.

"You're always busy when I want to go out with you."

Horatio looks away from his laptop again to look at Hamlet. Hamlet is curled up under the blankets around his pillow. He is seriously sulking. If it isn't so worrying, Horatio would find it kind of adorable. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"Break up with her, Horatio." Hamlet claims he's never whined once in his life, but Horatio certainly counts that as whining.

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

Hamlet's sigh is greatly exaggerated. "I didn't mean to dump her completely. _Honestly_. You can just be friends, or something."

"What about Ophelia?"

"She can't get over the fact that I text you during class."

"I can't get over that either, to be perfectly honest."

"Don't think you can get away with that."

Horatio sighs, closes his laptop, removes his glasses, and goes to sit on the bed. He leans back on his hands, taking care not to lean on Hamlet. "I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Then don't think," Hamlet says simply, getting up so he can latch his arms around Horatio's neck. "Doesn't it get tiring?" He whispers, lips brushing against his ear.

Horatio jerks back in shock and falls back onto the bed. He swallows nervously and tries to gently push Hamlet off of him. "I think it's worth it."

"But where's the fun in that?"

"Hamlet, we can't."

"Why not?" Hamlet frowns, and it really looks like he can't understand.

Horatio covers his eyes with his hand; Hamlet's stare is unnerving. He can never look into those wide, icy blue eyes without immediately caving in. "It's impossible."

"Slamming a revolving door is possible if someone's foot is there."

"Someone will get hurt."

"It won't be either of our feet."

"You can't know that."

Hamlet sits back and Horatio removes his hand to make sure he hadn't accidentally fallen off or something. "You're scared!"

Horatio is silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, he gives in. "So what if I am? Have you thought this through for even one moment? There's no way this can end well."

"I have! And I don't care!"

Horatio's breath hitches at Hamlet's expression. He's really mad, and Horatio can see tears starting to form in his eyes. And even though he's certain part of it is acting, it hurts all the same. "Don't…Hamlet…" He carefully sits up and cups Hamlet's face. "I'm sorry."

Hamlet doesn't hesitate to lean forward and kiss Horatio soundly on the lips, pushing them both back down. Horatio hums deeply, letting his fingers thread through Hamlet's hair (black, wavy, and soft) as he responds. Perfect.

"See, isn't this better?" Hamlet mutters as he pulls away.

"It's not like I can argue against you anyways." Horatio smiles and leans up to kiss him again but Marcellus chooses that time to loudly barge in.

"Horatio, do you want to go—"

Horatio stares at him with wide eyes while Hamlet just sits there with his hands still on Horatio's shoulders. "Uh…"

Marcellus smirks. "Or I can just go with Barnardo if you're busy. Although I thought we had an agreement that we wouldn't have any of this business here?"

"We weren't going to," Horatio mumbles, pushing Hamlet back so he can sit up. "Besides, it's about time I returned the little bird to his nest."

Hamlet crosses his arms and frowns. "What?"

"Dinner, and then I'm taking you home," Horatio says in what he hopes is a no-questions tone.

"Hey, wait, it's a Friday."

"I thought if you touch a baby bird in the wild the parents won't accept it back," Marcellus quips in interruption, still hovering by the doorway.

Horatio frowns. "You still have to go home and you," he glares at Marcellus, "are not helping."

"No, it's cute watching you two argue," Marcellus says lightly, "that and I just got a hundred bucks richer."

Hamlet looks amused for a second before turning back to Horatio to give him his kicked-puppy-on-a-rainy-street eyes. "I'll tell them I'm with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."

"And when they ask them?"

"They won't."

"…Just this once," Horatio sighs, finally scooting out from under him so that he can stand.

"So…Dinner?" Marcellus nudges.

"Yes, yes. You two are impossible."

A few days later, Horatio is curled up in his bed, trying to fend off a headache. He had rushed to the room in hopes that they still had some aspirin, but it seems as if Marcellus relies on Horatio to restock "his" supply, so now he is stuck laying there, trying to make it disappear through sheer force of will.

His phone beeps. He groans lightly and gropes for his phone, because Hamlet will yell at him later if he doesn't respond. '_Horatio, save me_.'

Horatio smiles and rolls his eyes at the text. '_Stop texting me during class._'

'_Pick me up later?_'

'_I've got a headache, Ham._'

'_Oh…I'll see you tomorrow, then. And stop calling me that. I'm nothing like pig meat. ):_'

Horatio starts chuckling before he realizes that makes his head hurt even more and stops. He throws his phone on the floor and is about to hide under his comforter, but Marcellus the Slacker loudly enters.

"Hey, 'Ratio—"

"Stop talking, unless you have a bottle of aspirin with you."

"Oh _that's _what I had to remind you about."

"Go away."

Horatio's phone beeps in the following silence. When Horatio fails to answer it, Marcellus slowly asks, "Uh…aren't you going to answer that?"

"No, Hamlet knows I have a headache. Now go away or shut up." But Horatio's arm peeks out from his blankets and grabs his phone anyways before disappearing again.

_'Just think of my love and you'll instantly feel better!'_

Horatio smiles. '_And you call me embarrassing. I'm going to sleep now, so you pay attention to your teacher for once, Ham._'

_'How cruel. I was being serious, you know. ;)_'

He dumps his phone back on the floor, hiding his grin in his pillow. He knows Marcellus will look through his messages and make fun of him later, but sleeping is more important right now. He might even feel good enough later to call Hamlet. Maybe.

He still can't believe that they're officially a couple, but he tries not to think too hard about that either.


	3. 3

_A/N: I think this has become my "add stuff to when I feel like it" fic, since I plan to keep it as light-hearted as possible, so it'll always be "complete" but I'm also going to be adding stuff when the plot bunnies strike. Also, the rating went up because I forgot I made this K+. My bad.  
>And I have no reason for this other than it was utterly pouring the day before I started writing this (augh, we can have such insane weather here). And I haven't done a rainy scene before (that I can recall), and figured I should intentionally indulge in clichés at least once. And look! I can make obscure references to lines, too! I'm insane. =.=<br>Hamlet's perspective is infinitely more entertaining to write, even though I love Horatio more. Haha. As always, please try to refrain from murdering me and enjoy.  
>I usually try to reply to all reviews, but I'm lazy now so I'd just like to say I love all of you for being so nice and thinking so highly of this fic. I really can't thank you enough.<br>-caelumdeity_

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><p><strong>3.<strong>

"It's the summer! What do you mean you're busy?"

'I told you, Hamlet, I'm working. Right now. In fact, I shouldn't even be talking with you.'

Hamlet rolls over onto the cool spot on his bed, wondering why the air conditioning isn't on. "You'll come to see me later, won't you?"

'If I spirit you away much more, your parents will file a restraining order on me.'

Hamlet scoffs. "Stop speaking nonsense; it's unbecoming of you. My parents love you."

'That's because they don't know we're dating.' Horatio's voice has become softer, and Hamlet can only assume that he's trying to avoid getting caught.

"Speaking of that, Marcellus has another bet going on, doesn't he?"

Horatio easily accepts the sudden change in topic. 'Yes. It's a bit saddening that he has nothing better to do with his money than bet it on such trivial things.'

Hamlet grins, sitting upright. "You do know we have complete control over whether or not he wins?"

Horatio chuckles lightly. 'Of course I do. He won't tell me what days he put down.'

"He's that confident in his guessing abilities, is he?"

'Realistically speaking, in his mind we should've had sex already.'

Hamlet pauses, scooting over to another part of his bed. "Do you want to?"

There's a long silence, and Hamlet begins to suspect that the call was dropped (only because Horatio would never hang up on him). It's not like they haven't talked about it before. They had even managed to have a serious conversation about it once, somehow. Hamlet was, is, all for it; the sooner the better really, because even before they'd 'officially' become a couple he had been plagued by more than troublesome thoughts about Horatio. Horatio, of course, said he was fine with it, but he didn't want to force anything. Hamlet lost the discussion on that particular day, but he knows it's only a matter of time and persuasion before Horatio will fall – that's how it always is, after all.

'We shouldn't really be talking about this right now,' Horatio finally says, sounding distressed.

"Are you in trouble?"

'Not yet,' he says in that tone that implies an extra statement: but I will be soon.

"All right, all right. But we have to talk about this later. Bye." Hamlet hangs up, places his phone on his bedside table and flops down onto his bed.

What is he going to do now? He's hardly going to venture outside his room; that would become very troublesome very fast. Summer work?

He glances at the books he's required to read (that Horatio was kind enough to use his discount on even though Hamlet has more than enough money to pay for them). After a long moment he sits up. He grimaces and chooses one at random to flip through.

Oh. It's the play. No wonder Horatio had had such a concerned face when he'd shown him the book list (Hamlet hadn't even looked at the list until now). Well, at least he can get one book over and done with, and with little effort on his part, too.

He finishes within the next two hours only because he spent an extra amount of time carefully interweaving as many brazenly facetious comments as he could into his replies to the prompts.

Feeling that he has been sufficiently productive for the entire week, he calls Horatio again, since he can't quite remember when his shift ends. Horatio answers immediately, a good sign.

'Yes?'

"I finished a portion of my summer work. Now you must come to see me."

Horatio laughs. 'So you finally noticed that _Hamlet_ was in there?'

"You should see some of my answers. I spent an inordinate amount of time explaining why Horatio lived and had a distressingly difficult time keeping it clean."

Horatio laughs. 'You're really too cute. Did you want to do something later?'

Hamlet frowns (pouts). "I still don't understand what you mean by that. Well, I haven't been outside in a week. Let's go to a park or something."

Horatio scoffs. 'Have you been locked in a tower or something?'

"If we had one, I probably would be."

'Poor baby,' Horatio comforts mockingly, 'don't worry; your knight is here to rescue you.'

Hamlet rolls his eyes as he leaps off the bed. "You're not a knight," he says quietly, peeking out of his room before quickly sneaking down the stairs.

He opens the front door, and there Horatio is, phone to his ear, a wide smile on his face. "I am for you, my lord."

And that never fails to make Hamlet's face heat up. "You're so embarrassing, Horatio," Hamlet mutters even as he pulls Horatio close to kiss him.

"You like it." Horatio grins, arms comfortably around Hamlet's waist. "Are you really intending to go out like that?"

"I can't go out barefoot, in a t-shirt and sweatpants?"

Horatio shrugs. "Go right ahead, but it's supposed to rain later."

"Whatever. You'd give me your jacket _and_ carry me if you had to."

Horatio smiles softly. "Yes, but when I fall ill you'll be without your savior for a while."

"I can legally drive now, you know."

"I still have no idea how you got your license."

Hamlet grins widely, closing the door and grabbing Horatio's hand, leading him down the walkway. "Oh you know, a smile here, a few words there, and you could control the world."

Chuckling, Horatio quickens his pace and cuts him off from the driver's side. "Uh-uh, it's the passenger seat for you."

"Have a little faith in me, won't you?" Nevertheless, Hamlet easily slips into the passenger seat. "Oh. Shoes."

"I figured you would have left without a pair. We're about the same size, right?"

Hamlet hums in response, easily slipping on the tennis shoes and tying the laces. "But I'd rather wear your Converse. Maybe then you'd know what it looks like to have both of them properly tied at once."

"You could always tie them for me," Horatio says absently as he concentrates on driving.

"Oh, but you have to learn for yourself, babe, or else what are you going to do when I'm not there?"

"I'm sure I'll find some way to manage."

"Hey, let's stop here," Hamlet says suddenly.

"Here?" Horatio pulls up to the curb and parks, but with a questioning look on his face. "We're still a little way—" Hamlet interrupts him, leaning over and latching on to him. "Or you could do this."

Hamlet hums. "Help me over, will you?"

With practiced ease (which is a little strange, since they've never done this in particular before) Horatio seats Hamlet more comfortably in his lap, yet he doesn't comply when Hamlet leans down for a kiss. "This doesn't seem very comfortable for you."

"It only seems, _so_," He kisses him fully on the lips, and it's perfect for all of ten seconds before Horatio separates them. Horatio is always doing that. It's a little aggravating, really. Hamlet frowns. "What now?"

Horatio pecks him on the lips before smiling. "Marcellus, Barnardo, and I got an apartment," he murmurs against his lips, "as long as we keep to ourselves, anything goes."

"You're getting back at them," Hamlet smirks.

Horatio smiles widely and menacingly. "Unfortunately, Marcellus and Barnardo just do not believe me when I say I can hear _everything_."

"No wonder you're so tired lately." Hamlet leans down to kiss him but is distracted as he glances out the window. Horatio's forecasted rain starts falling heavily on the car. Hamlet grins, turning from the window to Horatio. "Yes. I've been waiting for this."

"Oh, no, Hamlet. I'm not stepping foot into that downpour."

Hamlet smiles mischievously. "Well I am, so you know you are eventually." He kisses Horatio on the forehead before flinging the door open and jumping out. He waves happily, runs in front of the car and takes off down the sidewalk.

"Hamlet!" Horatio smiles fondly and sighs. He grabs the raincoat he had in the back seat and, after locking the car, takes after him.

Hamlet laughs, more freely than he has in years, and slows his running into a light jog. The rain is cold against his skin, but refreshing, and he's completely soaked to the bone. But it feels great, and exhilarating, and so, so wonderful. Hamlet eventually comes to a stop, but he can't quite tell where he is or how far he's run. Horatio's steps are right behind him and not seconds later there is a raincoat over his head.

Horatio's body is warm and comforting against him, a sensation that was foreign to him until Horatio came into his life. "You, my lord, are absolutely insane," he whispers.

"Invariably so, dear Horatio. It's fun; you should try it some time." Hamlet rests his arms on Horatio's shoulders, smiling softly. As he does so he carefully removes Horatio's water-spotted glasses and hides them away. "Live a little."

Horatio tugs the raincoat to cover Hamlet a little more. "Only a little?"

"You've got to learn how to crawl before you can run, 'Ratio." Horatio's hands gently cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Hamlet's breathing slows as he searches Horatio's eyes. "What is it?"

"I love you, Hamlet," Horatio barely whispers before he brings him into a kiss, soft and whole.

Hamlet responds earnestly, wrapping his arms tightly around Horatio's neck and the jacket falls somewhere but neither of them notices.

"I love you too, of course."


	4. 4

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorite-d, followed, and stuck with this even though I'm terrible with updating it! Lots of love to all of you!  
>This was impossibly difficult to write, you guys. And why yes, I realize I'm probably shoving headcanons around onto you guys like no body's business. I'm sorry.<br>Coffee shops are cool.  
>…I feel like the more I do, the more I ruin a good thing. I'm thinking I should just quit while I'm ahead...<br>I'm also going to actually start college in a couple of weeks, so we'll see if that gives me more inspiration something, so, let's keep our hopes up.  
>-caelumdeity<em>

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><p><strong>4.<strong>

Horatio sighs, and takes a careful drink from his hot tea. So it's in the middle of summer and entirely too hot to be drinking such beverages, but it relaxes him so he drinks it anyways.

"Horatio."

He glances up from his seat, blinking in surprise for a brief moment. "Laertes. Did you need something?" There's an unnecessary bite to his tone like there always is when he talks to Laertes, and he's long since given up on trying to figure out why.

"No," Laertes shakes his head slightly but pulls out the chair opposite of Horatio and sits anyways.

Horatio doesn't question that either. Really, their entire relationship is full of so many questions that it shouldn't work, but it does. Apparently. "Then what?"

There's a slight frown on Laertes' face. "Nothing." Pause. "Ophelia yelled at me."

Horatio raises his eyebrows, half intrigued and half disbelieving. "What?"

Laertes sinks low in his chair, hunching over his overly indulgent iced coffee that Horatio is pretty sure has more chocolate and whipped cream in it than any one person needs. "She thinks I'm babying her."

"You do."

Laertes shoots him a pitiful glare. "I don't."

Horatio simply rolls his eyes and gives Laertes an unwavering, distinctly unmoved look.

Laertes narrows his eyes before giving up and slumping on the table, hiding his face in his arms. "Piss off."

Horatio scoffs, bringing his cup to his lips as he tries to form some sort of reply. "That still doesn't explain why you're here," he finally says since Laertes doesn't seem open to saying anything else. "In fact, if Ophelia's with Hamlet like it sounds, I doubt seeing me makes it any better."

He huffs in irritation, sneaking a glare over his arms. "Shut up it does."

"…What?"

Laertes hides his face again, and Horatio doesn't know why he was expecting anything else. "I didn't say anything."

"Why are you so difficult?" Horatio grimaces.

"_I'm_ difficult?" Laertes nearly growls as he suddenly sits up.

"There are different types of difficult people." Horatio sighs. And he thought he would have a relaxing afternoon. What a laughable idea that is now.

Laertes opens his mouth to angrily retort but he suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Horatio's and isn't that utterly mindboggling?

He pushes Laertes away, barely keeping it from a rough shove. "What are you doing?" he hisses.

"Sorry," Laertes mutters, but his attention is still on something over his shoulder.

"Hey, tell me what that was all about. Now."

Laertes sinks back into his chair in mixed relief and agitation, running a hand through his short brown hair. "I told someone I was already in a relationship to get him off my back."

Horatio frowns, about to argue, but he can already anticipate Laertes' line of logic and chooses to say something else instead. "You took advantage of the situation," he says slowly, carefully choosing his words.

Laertes' expression wavers between embarrassed and indignant and there's a faint red coloring his face. "Yeah."

"You know I really don't—"

"Yeah."

There is a long and uncomfortable pause and Horatio just wants to leave, but he can tell Laertes has something he wants to say and he would rather get this over and dealt with now.

Finally, Laertes starts, "So you really love—"

"Yeah."

"Have you two—"

"Not all the way,"

Laertes winces at his tone. "…Sorry."

Horatio starts to sigh, but he's done that too much for the day and so stops himself. He instead takes a slow drink from his tea. "He respects you, you know."

Laertes groans. "Don't start this crap with me again."

"I was just saying a statement, that's all."

"Yeah right," he grumbles, "Don't think I can't see that smirk. And you think I'm conniving."

"So who is the unfortunate soul you're trying to avoid anyways?"

Laertes looks at Horatio suspiciously before answering. Or he would have, had Hamlet not come bursting through the doors, Ophelia in tow, and latched onto Horatio at that very moment.

"Guess who I just finished listening to, Laertes," Hamlet says with a sugary smile that would make infants cry should they ever be forced to bear witness to it.

"Hamlet, just let it go," Horatio murmurs, placing a hand over one of Hamlet's. "Don't make a scene."

"But—"

"Laertes how could you!" Ophelia cuts off Hamlet, frowning down at her brother.

"I—"

"Seriously," she pulls up a chair and angrily sits with a sigh of pure frustration. "I sat back and listened to every warning you gave to me about Hamlet, and then you go and do something like this?"

Horatio thinks this is a ridiculous thing to be fighting about. It should be painfully obvious that nothing is going to develop from this and yet here they are. Perhaps it's the principle of the matter. "All of you just be quiet for a minute." Once they did as they were told, he continues, "It's not a big deal—don't look at me like that you know it's true. It was just a moment of panic, right?" He gives Laertes a meaningful look.

Laertes quickly, and rather frantically, nods despite the lie. "Yeah."

"You're siding with him?"

Horatio looks up at Hamlet the best he can, a slight frown on his face. "I'm not siding with anyone. I'm trying to stop something stupid from happening."

"You're siding with him."

Ophelia nods in agreement.

"Look, we've already talked about this and sorted things out," Laertes tries.

"Everything is fine," Horatio adds firmly. "Boundaries have been redrawn; pacts have been made. There's no need to get so upset."

"And that's what they said after the first world war."*

"Hamlet…"

After a moment's deliberation, Hamlet concedes, draping himself further over Horatio. "…Fine."

"Really…" Horatio sighs before he can help it. "I can handle myself, you know."

"I know that," Hamlet whines in his ear, still refusing to sit down in a chair like a normal person.

"So what was all that about, then?" Horatio smiles slightly, completely ignoring Laertes and Ophelia's stares.

Hamlet mumbles something that's completely unintelligible even with his close proximity to Horatio's ear. In fact, Horatio is pretty sure that Hamlet hadn't even attempted to try to form proper words. Horatio's smile widens, reaching back to quickly run his fingers through Hamlet's hair, accepting the rather convoluted apology.

"You're getting a little possessive yourself," Hamlet grumbles as he nudges his cheek against Horatio's.

Horatio blinks, slowly taking his hand away from Hamlet and narrowing his eyes. "I have no problem with Ophelia." He glances back over to the other side of the table where the siblings are sitting, but they are now nowhere in sight.

"Really." Hamlet sounds largely unconvinced.

Horatio's face remains impassive as he pulls away from Hamlet completely and starts to stand, an eyebrow raised. "So that 'ex' is just for show?"

"Damn it, Horatio," Hamlet mutters lowly, following him to his car and trapping him against the side of the vehicle, completely disregarding the fact that they're in public and it's in the middle of the day.

Horatio sighs, again, and turns around, tilting his head down to press a light kiss against his forehead. "Really. I'm perfectly okay with it now."

Hamlet is about to argue more, but pauses abruptly when he processes the entire sentence. "Now?" he parrots dumbly.

Horatio nods easily. "I was annoyed before," he says quietly, "and I was mad at myself for feeling that way, because there was no reason for it." Horatio hadn't felt embarrassed until he notices Hamlet looking up at him with wide eyes. He ducks his head the best he can, avoiding Hamlet's eyes for the first time that he can remember. "I just finally convinced myself to stop all that, so could we not bring it up again? Ever?" he finishes explaining as quickly as possible.

Hamlet grins brightly and gives Horatio a quick peck. "You should have said so earlier!"

Horatio's face reddens as he protests, "But it was completely irrational!"

Hamlet's grin softens. "Exactly." He tugs on one of Horatio's hands gently. "I didn't think you'd admit it, though."

"I wouldn't have, but you sounded so angry I had to." Horatio firmly tells himself that he is absolutely not, in any definition of the words, whining or pouting, even though he's covering his face with his unoccupied hand.

Hamlet slowly lowers Horatio's hand so that Horatio can see his bright smile. Horatio's breath catches in his throat and he barely hears Hamlet's next words. "Let's go to your place."

"That…you…what…serious…o-okay…"

* * *

><p>*Oh gosh, I hope that wasn't in bad taste. If it was, I can change it. Seriously. Just ask me to. I will change it.<p>

**Also, Osric cameo.


	5. 5

_A/N:__** THIS CHAPTER IS DEFINITELY RATED M 'cause author has no self-control; it most likely will be the only one, but I'm still changing the overall story rating as well. **__(You know, I've been wondering, doesn't this technically count as underage? I mean Hamlet's around 17 not quite 18, whereas Horatio's about 21, so…)  
>Also, I'm sorry about the huge break. Writing is being difficult with me, and it's been a long while so I'm afraid continuity may suffer for it. I'm kind of absorbed in video games and classes right now ('cause loser loner here) so I'm not sure how much more active I'll be. But I'm in the process of writing the next chapter. Not gonna promise anything but the wait shouldn't be as long.<br>__**You guys can try bothering me at any time, on this account or on my tumblr, url: forevertruantlydisposed.**__ (I may or may not be trying to discreetly build up a HamHor playlist there, if you're interested in something like that.)  
>-caelumdeity<em>

* * *

><p><strong>5.<strong>

Hamlet grins brightly, never tiring of the sensation of backing Horatio onto the bed, or any nearby surface really. He loves hearing Horatio gasp his name and mutter words, sweet and obscene, in his ears like he's exalting a deity. He especially gets a thrill when Horatio starts responding in earnest, throwing the rest of his reservations on the floor to lie with their clothes, and simply encompassing Hamlet in everything that he is.

Today, though, today Hamlet is searching for something more, and he'll be damned if he lets himself get distracted again. He lets out a slow breath as he backs away and pulls at the hem of Horatio's jeans.

"I can't get them off with you on me," Horatio smiles up at him, fingers dancing under Hamlet's shirt, stroking his sensitive abdomen.

Hamlet huffs and raises himself and splays his hands over Horatio's chest, but doesn't move much more than that, giving him a challenging look. "What about now?"

Horatio's smile turns into a grin. "If I knee you in the ass it's not my fault," he simply states as he wiggles out of both his pants and underwear for good measure and manages to kick them off onto the floor. Before Hamlet can lay back over him, however, Horatio pushes him gently but firmly. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do."

Hamlet doesn't even try to deny it, simply shifting his weight and looking at Horatio plaintively. "Why don't you want to do it? I think we've put off talking about this long enough."

Horatio sighs, sitting up and nervously petting Hamlet's stomach, looking off at a point just over his shoulder. "It's not really that I don't want to it's just…I don't exactly have the best track record."

"What? How bad could you possibly be when everything else we do is amazing?"

He frowns and looks at Hamlet from the corner of his eye. "The, uh, the last time I tried it didn't work out too well."

Hamlet frowns in confusion and tilts Horatio's head to face him. "What?"

"He said it was hurting too much so we stopped and he broke up with me a week later," Horatio mutters quickly, eyes still avoiding Hamlet's.

Hamlet stares at him for a moment, trying to hold in his laughter of disbelief. "Oh God, 'Ratio," he sighs, nuzzling his neck for a moment before placing his hands on Horatio's shoulders and insistently looking him in the eye. "If you were even half of what you're like with me when you were with him, I'm pretty certain that that wasn't the issue. It's that other half I'm worried about." When Horatio makes a protesting noise, Hamlet comforts him with a quick kiss. "You have to admit, as perceptive as you are you can be really horrible at emotions. Emotionally stupid, you could say." He gives Horatio another, deeper, kiss and subconsciously lowers his voice. "There is no way I could possibly let you go over something stupid like that." He suddenly brightens again. "If it's not absolutely perfect, so what? Why do you think 'practice makes perfect' is such a hackneyed saying?"

Horatio takes a deep breath. "You're sure?"

"Positive." Hamlet bumps their foreheads together. "I trust you." When Horatio still looks hesitant Hamlet gives him a sly smile and slides his hands lower. "You want to, too, right? I promise that I'll tell you if we need to stop."

Horatio swallows thickly and Hamlet can feel his hands inching up underneath his shirt. "I don't have condoms."

Hamlet tilts his head. "It should be fine, right?"

"R-right. Yeah, I'm not sure what I was thinking…"

"We'll go slowly," Hamlet promises, kissing Horatio softly and pushing his hands even lower.

Horatio finally nods, leaning in to reattach his mouth to Hamlet's neck, gently grazing his teeth against Hamlet's skin. At this point the only thing stopping him from making stupid comments is the fact that Horatio is all over him again, even if it is tentatively, and Hamlet focuses on relieving Horatio of that lingering worry.

Hands roam over bodies without bounds and clothes are slowly, almost tortuously so, peeled away and cast aside. Horatio ravishes Hamlet's neck, a favored spot of his, and Hamlet can't exactly complain between the gasps and whines. It's as if Hamlet can feel Horatio's change in demeanor, and when Hamlet's pulling is met by Horatio pushing against him they end up flipping over. There's a pause and Hamlet opens his eyes curiously only to have to contain some laughter at the shocked expression on Horatio's face. Before Horatio can think about it for too long, Hamlet slides his glasses off and while he's busy adjusting Hamlet places the glasses on the bedside table, exchanging it for the tube he knows is hiding in the drawers, and slaps it down into Horatio's open palm. "Do you want to do it or do I have to?"

"Fuck," he eloquently whispers, coating his fingers carefully but as quickly as possible. When Horatio looks up again, gray green eyes dark and face flushed, Hamlet nods before he can say anything else.

It's a little excruciating, telling his body what his mind already knows, and Hamlet discovers it's definitely not the same as trying it out by himself. He wants to say something, to get Horatio to go just a little bit faster, even though he knows he can't and that this is important, especially if he wants Horatio to ever trust himself with this again. The one time Hamlet does start to panic, when he's sufficiently physically prepared, he shoves away the thought in annoyance as soon as it appears; it's definitely not something either of them needs, and it's definitely something he doesn't regret ignoring.

Hamlet relishes the feeling, brings Horatio closer to him and presses his head back into the pillows as Horatio continues lavishing his neck with attention. If it were under any other circumstances, Hamlet would say something about the river of words flowing out of Horatio's mouth whenever it isn't otherwise occupied, but as it is, Hamlet is kind of glad he can't really form any sort of intelligent thought. He enjoys the feelings of protection and trust and love, of Horatio embracing him so completely and purely, as much as he enjoys the pleasure of it. When their eyes happen to meet, Hamlet is a little surprised to find a hint of a similar experience in Horatio's eyes and groans quietly, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately after as he's completely overwhelmed, clenching tightly to every part of Horatio that he can.

When Hamlet comes back to his senses, Horatio is whimpering into his neck, clenching his waist. "Hamlet, I—I need to—I'm going to—"

Hamlet is aware enough to realize that Horatio's trying to pull away and interrupts him, holding him physically as he breathlessly snaps, "Don't you dare go anywhere."

Horatio chokes out a word that sounds sort of like "but" before cursing quietly and kissing him soundly. Hamlet responds just as fervently, riding on the unadulterated affection and contentment thrumming through his body.

Their kisses gradually become slower and tamer, to the point where they're more a simple brush of lips than anything substantial.

"God, Hamlet."

Hamlet gently shushes him, running his hands through Horatio's hair before settling his arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, prompting a low whine. "Can you honestly tell me you have the energy to clean up right this second? Thought so. Now let me bask, damn it."

"'Lettie."

"What now?"

Horatio presses a thumb to a rather prominent mark on Hamlet's neck and Hamlet starts. "Sorry."

"For what? You know I like it," Hamlet mutters, still intent on reveling in the after-glow for as long as he can.

"It's a little high on there, though."

"Stop worrying; it's fine. Now stop talking or I'll make you."

Horatio sighs but kisses him on the forehead. "Don't forget you have to go home tonight."

"'Ratio!" Hamlet whines.

Horatio laughs, giving him another kiss in apology, pulling the covers over them the best he can, settling his arms around Hamlet and resigning himself to a nap.


End file.
